


Braincinquain, Brainstem or the Unstable Michael Brower

by Juuso



Category: Brainscan - Fandom
Genre: F/M, surreal in part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juuso/pseuds/Juuso
Summary: This is a novelization of sorts of the 1994 film: Brainscan.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter Brainscan, novelization 

One 

On a bad night, an event changed Michael's life forever 

In the rain going down falling though the event where are you mother? What happened? On the bed at the hospital is that were it first happened? No it was when I found my mother dead in the rain. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________  
Dial, Dial, Dial 

described Igor, "A call from Kyle, Master." 

" Talk to me," Decreed Michael. 

Kyle was now in the conversations over the telephone. " hey, Michael, have you heard, the latest news in your sorry life, a game's out, They call it, "Brainscan", dude, it supposed to be the greatest horror game, and there's a lot of blood." 

"It's just an add, brown creeper, the game's probably not all that good, remember gore-beasts, a total let down." 

"yeah, maybe, but man, check this out:" 

Michael sat on his bed, and stretched, his claws sank into the blankets as the process, and his whiskers moved as his mouth opened to yawn, white teeth of his exposed. But his leg would not let him forget it was broken. 

"-Choose from Chain Saw Dismemberment, Nightmare Eight-" 

This description made Michael want to yawn again, 

" - satisfy your sickest fantasies."  
The sentence entreiged him, for a moment, and his thin pupils set to the monitor, then to the window where he saw- 

"I can't believe that I have to be the one to tell you about this,--" 

He saw his next-door-neighbor, and he was In love with her. Michael ceased to listen to Kyle, his attention was needed else were. Through the window, Michael watched Kimberley, wearing only a chemise. Michael was entranced by her. For a better look, he reached for his telescope and camera.  
Kimberley looked at herself in the mirror, and thought about the party that would take place the next day. 

Michael was happily looking at her when she removed her chemise 

"So man, you watching Kimberly again?" 

Kyle said this and Michaels ears seemed marred 

" You see her tits, man?" 

Michael was ashamed when he heard Kyle saying that. But he knew all the same, he would not stop. 

"No Kyle, I'm not doing that."

"Sure man, but you should make a move on her soon, because-" 

"bye Kyle!" 

"buddies forever?" 

"buddies forever."  
Michael looked scornfully yet interested into his television that had been hooked up to a security camera, he watched Kimberly in it. He was in his chair now having left the window and telescope after Kimberly went into a non-visible room. His chair was as everything in his room, either horror themed or of science fiction. This chair looked like it could spawn a ray, or shoot lightning. His room was in the attic, but the attic happened to be a studio apartment, Michael lived practically alone in a whole mansion,  
but he hardly did anything away from his attic, there was no need or want to. 

"Igor, call Kimberly" 

He demanded Igor call Kimberly, in way that she, to answer the phone, would come closer to were the camera was rigged,… and to see her bend over to pick it up. She heard the telephone ring, and was eager to talk to someone, she rushed to pick it up. Michael's camera's frame rate had been very slow, maybe 6 frames per second, and this allowed him to intake every frame of her. When Kimberly picked up the telephone, Michael waited just long enough before hanging up. Kimberly was surprised, but her ears did not turn back, her tail did not rapidly sway, her whiskers where not propped back, rather she was used to getting such false calls, and not having to pay a telephone bill, she opted to humor Michael. She always wondered if it had something to do with that ugly oddly-placed bird house on the side of Mr. Browers house, never had she seen any bird take lodge in it, and Michael was neither a bird enthusiast nor a fan of catching his own food, he had put a birdhouse there all the same. She stared into the entry of the birdhouse trying to see if there were finally some residents. It was odd to have Kimberly staring him straight in the eye, but he knew on the other end, she was staring into the entry way of a birdhouse. She quickly vanished, only maintaining eye contact for a moment. He then turned off the screen, and went to not his film  
seeing chair, but his office chair, and requested: "Igor, dial 1800-555-FEAR" 

"hello, you've reached Brainscan." 

"hello, my name is Michael Brower, you can reach me at- 

"hello Michael" 

"oh... sorry, I thought you were a machine." 

"how can I help you today, Michael?" 

"I read your add in Fango , and I just wanted to see what all the hype was about." 

"Well Michael, it's a state of the art, new video-game, and it is one of the horror genre, you have to do something within a time limit." 

"Well, okay but--" 

The other end hung up, Michael was worried about it. And surprised. He had forgotten most of the conversation. He began to eat a supper of one rat, one undercooked, factory farmed rat, he did not ever enjoy eating, he did not have a taste is good or bad food. He went to sleep, after never worrying about his school, Kyle had promised to bring in a great film to show the horror club, and Michael now had high expectation for it. 

Awaking the next morning, and looking for his book-bag he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, he had semi long black fur, and creeping yellow eyes. Long white whiskers, tail like the Columbia, always transferring something that wasn't supposed to be. His paw pads were black, and so was his nose. His claws were long and sharp for his adolesant age, but he was no bigger than any other kitten, a little smaller actually. Others who saw him said they could see bad luck coming their way. He was not entirely self-conscious of his pelt, and undergoeth no strife to create friendship. He had his friend, Kyle, and would settle for no more main stream. Kyle at least he thought was worse looking than himself, yet this was most likely not the consensus amongst the general public. Kyle was a semi-long-haired tabby with a black around the edges and red in the middle nose, he was average to large for his age. He had nicks in his ears, and made a point to dress always in a black leather jacket. His whiskers where short, and his legs were long. 

Upon his arrival to school, Michael found the first period, and his was science, the teacher was under qualified for the job, his name was Neil Denvorouse. Michael hated most school, and he thought that cats had a disadvantage, how there they not supposed to fall asleep? The class all period looked forward to the end. And all period, Michael enjoyed looking at the computer science text books were in the early days of high school, he learned a few things. He had minimal drawing skills, but they weren't getting better, the last thing he had drawn was his own room. 

The next sectioned time of the day had a teacher, who despised him, and most of the students held the same opinion as that teacher, they had satanic worries of his person, and soul. This class was language arts, in the language arts class some students were in the informations unit, they had all to pick a topic to write there information on, and the paper had to be 20 paragraphs. Michael had almost chosen to do an informational paper about BDSM, but he decided to write it on Sexual Sadism Disorder. "There're different" had clarified Michael to Mon. Cecil, his teacher 

Next came physical education, the class he had most regretted not getting in with Kimberly. 

And then the thing he had been looking forwards to all day, the activities period, The time where he had his Horror club, today, Kyle deemed to bring in Death Death Death, Part two, the film was centered around death. And a Gall Bladder. Michael was disappointed at the film's lack of realism and prosistance to be in Italian, he had explained this to Kyle, yet Kyle enjoyed it whole heartedly. Michael's disappointment can be understood, the audio's abysmal skips had never been edited, but the costumes were with the period. His river-tail twitched, because he was unengaged, yet pissssssed. He stared blankly at the screen, and he was taking notes, he, after rejoining reality, wondered what the notes were about, upon looking down, he found they were in Chez; he wondered why. Michael did not have a lot of time to wonder, because soon after the mystery was discovered, the principle came in. A principle silently insisted the remote be his. The principle's receival of the remote led to the pause of the film. 

"What was that, Mr. Brower?" 

"A gall bladder, sir." 

Community in the room began to giggle. 

"Mr. Brower, my office now." The Adult exclaimed. 

Walking in the hall with Michael, Joshua Goldsmith, the principle of Becon high-school wanted to grab Michael's wrist, and drag Michael all the way to the office, for the six-teen-year-old stalked rather slow and took time to stare at people in the hall, who had by now seen him go to that same office three times and they knew, those were only the times were they had happened to be in the corridor. Michael saw Kimberly leaving the bathroom, but she seemed to not see him, and by now he was used to that dynamic. When Michael and Joshua arrived to the office, Michael took a familiar seat on a distinctly patterned chair, the tail ever erect. His yellow spying eyes came to the wall, seeing pictures from the school, the mascot was a toad. When Joshua had an angary seat, his quills all stood on end, he spoke. 

"The student led activities period was created for academic enhancement-" 

Michael all but tuned out of the conversation there. 

"that is why I have such a problem with this Horror-Club of yours... Tell me Michael, what was that film you were watching?" 

" Death, Death, Death." 

"Death, Death, Death", Principle Goldsmith mocked. 

"Part Two" Michael quietly added. 

"Why do you watch these films, don't you see that senseless violence is not entertainment" 

"well what is it then?" 

Ignoring the boy's question Joshua restated with more expectation, "Why do you watch these films?" 

"really?" 

"yes, help me understand." 

"Well, it’s a form of essssscape, I guesss." Michaels voice was getting hissy. 

" Yes escape, Like licking cat nip, and escaping the real word, huh? Like watching a pornographic sex film, getting an erection, then going into the street and rapeing someone?" 

"Yeeaaahh—I don't think erections rape people, I think people rape people." 

Joshua's eyes set a blaze,  
" The horror club is banned." 

"HHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS" as Michael hissed, venomous saliva left the cave of his oral canal, he may have been a cat, but he was one tenth cobra.  
_____________________________________________________________________________


	2. Chapter 2

______________________________________________________________________________  
Chapter  
Two  
The feels built inside Michael at this moment.  
Grade 4:  
As Michael reminisced about everything, he was also bullied. This opened a pathway for him to  
fall in love with seeing people die  
______________________________________________________________________________  
On an evening ride, Michael saw something that reminded him of his mother's cadaver. Blood.  
For someone with such a resume of horror, Michael at the sight of blood was very anxious, and  
for someone so afraid of blood, he had an extreme disconnect for watching horror films.

"What'cha doin' here kid?" Inquired a detective. Yes, the blood was in a crime scene, a car crash  
by the looks of it, not unlike his mother died in "You were friends of these people?"

"No sir." Replied Michael stoutly.

"then you have no buissnnizz being here, scat ."

And Michael drove away on his motorcycle. On the drive home, sprinklers sprinkled the lawns  
of the neighborhood in Mountview, a small town with a homeless population of zero to one. The  
town seemed free of crime, slow moving, and ever moving on. Michael opened the red mail box  
before fully entering his domain. He did not take the mail out. Then he did take the mail out.  
Primordial checking the mail, he found all of it was for his father, except for one piece called  
Brainscan, it was for him. Then he took of his overcoat, so that he was in a dark red shirt with a  
collar, the collar was leather. And the shirt had a collar as well, he wore the leather collar much  
as a human would wear a tie. The Shirt also had long sleeves, making it a long-sleeved knit. He  
tore the Brainscan open and observed. The cover looked like it was made by a molly kitten and  
an older tom who couldn't agree on anything. There was a warped mongrel made of a patchwork  
quilt. Michael took out the disk, it had been normal. Hearing noises form the neighboring house,  
where Kimberly lived, he peeked out the window, with his spying yellow eyes, he spied an event  
that was a party, but nobody invited him. His whiskers pierced forward and his leg gave his grief  
for having to climb all the stairs to the attic. Ears folded, he growled. He with fire shut the   
window, and put the disk in a holder and put the holder in the player, and called to Igor to dial  
the number: 1800-555-FEAR. That Igor did. The Title-screen of the game came to sequence  
some guy with crazy hair looked like he was destined to be a character in the game. A voice with  
a warning about hypnosis or something began to warn and frighten the people who cared this  
goes on... but he pressed start, because he was angry and bored.

A voice came to help him, " Michael, you must kill a citizen within a time limit."

"Not unlike a video game?"

"Video games are ancient history."

With that hostile exchange, Brainscan allegedly began. It started in a yard with the time as the  
real time it was in the outside world, and a human screamed at him in the distance. Michael  
thought that all humans were of low intelligence and made for lousy pets.

" The gate, the gate Michael." A disembodied voice prodded him. He obeyed, because what  
would he do without orientation level? Michael floated through a window, climbing a tree to get  
to it, this was against the will of the narrator, he immensely regretted the decision after finding  
that his leg was still hurt even in the video game. As in the room, he found a shaggy poodle  
snoozing on his bed, this is who he was supposed to kill, his paws were sweating, and his heart  
rate became faster. A red haired female human was on the bed with the poodle, but, humans can't  
talk, so he worried not about it. Extending from the retraction, his fore claw, he held it to the eye  
of the victim grazed his flesh for a while.

"what are you waiting for, Strrrrike!!!"

Now extending all five of his claws on that paw, for he was a thumbed cat. Raising the arm  
above his head, he took one last look upon the face of the victim, and rapidly brought  
it down slashing the dogs face open. the thick red liquid sprayed on Michael's arms and face, he  
savored the vain howls escaping the poodle's throat, climbing on the the hurting dog, he slashed  
again, careful not to hit the neck, he wanted to keep the dog alive, as any cat would do with his  
prey, so he could prolong his death and play with him for as long as possible. He used his good  
back leg for tearing of the dog in other areas. William was very despairing, and he didn't know  
what was happening, he only wanted to live through it. He had never felt so much pain in his life,  
yet still he expected to live, nothing less was acceptable to him, he was just starting a new  
business, and he had high hopes for his life, and he knew, if he died now, he only one who would  
care would be his red haired human pet, and she would only care because she wanted to have  
food, to sustain. Michael enjoyed the ride it was more thrilling than anything he had previously  
experienced. Michael yowled and meowed with enthusiasm. Blood was seeping further into his  
fur, and he pressed himself to the dog's wounds.

"Michael, Michael, you have a time limit."

At that, Michael ended the dog's suffering long with the dog's life.  
When once again he woke up in his television and gaming chair, Michael took a long happy drag  
of milk, and a bite of chicken. The chicken tasted like urine, because Kyle had peed on it before  
they killed it. Milk dripped down Michael's chin, day's trial was complete, he turned off the  
screen and went to sleep.

The next day arrived, the sun rose, but it was going to be an odd day, because the sun rose in the  
South. Michael arose, and as he had not done for a while, took time to appreciate the stainedglass  
window. They had no elaborate renditions of coherent events on them, yet they were still  
skill fully made and beautiful. It was a Tuesday, and Michael was certainly going to hang out  
with Kyle today. And he was exuberant to convey his experience with this new game called  
Brainscan, suddenly he did not regret having Kyle tell him about it. He asked Igor to call Kyle,  
and soon he and Kyle conversed. He got his book bag, and grabbed a mouse who was making its  
way across the floor for breakfast. The trial down the stairs was long and hurt him, but everyday  
that is what he would do. Going to school, waling with Kyle he knew he was going to get there  
late, they together were walking through a construction site, and Michael exclaimed:

"Kyle, Kyle! I played that game Brainscan you were speaking of, and I gotta tell you it was the  
best game I ever played!"

"Really, tell me dude."

"It was so real and an, I could have sworn I killed!"

"well what was the plot?"

"I don’t remember any plot, man, all I remember was all this blood, and and and , my paws were  
shaking, it was sick!!"

Kyle suddenly very much, much more, wanted to play Brainscan.

"told you man."

"well you were right man, this game, I got this feeling man I loved it man, I loved it."

"well ya have it on you?"

Michael felt that he would want it a little longer.

"patience Kyle, patience."

"nah man, if it's as good as you say-"

"I just want to play it a few more times, and then I promise, you can have it."

Right then a police car sped by and honked at them, they hissed at it.

"Hey." Yowled Kyle.

"what the hell were their problems?" Disputed Michael.

"Jerks."

"buddies forever?"

"buddies forever."

The topic and exchanged ended, they arrived at school, were Kyle went to ceramics, and Michael  
as always, went to science. In science though, there was something to do. It immensely surprised  
Michael this fact did. By now the class forgotten what unit they were learning. The teacher, Neil  
Denvorouse, seemed not to exist.

The next class went smoothly at first. Then it went roughly.

PE as had something to do with the teacher, he had just come back from three months of being  
sick. Spencer tried to recall what had made him sick, it was something transferred into his body  
how? Michael purred as he saw the Spencer try to decipher which one of the naughty children  
had disposed him as sick. Michael would be satisfied with getting caught, even though he never  
had to do much in PE, because of his limp, he still went and was registered for the class.

Lunch was uneventful, except he watched Kimberly all the time during lunch.

He met the horror club, and who was waiting for them, but the principle he told them all to leave,  
Michael questioned what they were supposed to do in that time instead of the horror club, and  
the principle told him to figure it out.

Michael went home.

When Michael got to his house, hidden in the fantastic realm, he drudged up the stairs, he  
noticed them every time, despite pretending not to. With his Columbia tail, put the disk in the  
holder, and the holder in the interpreter, "Igor! Dial 1800-555-FEAR"

"Yes master."

\---For the disk had not started.  
Michael at this was infuriated, he wanted again to kill, that was all...  
The dial tone implied that nobody was coming to pick up the phone, or that was an invalid  
number.

"Shit." And he through the remote across the space to hit the wall.

His ears rising at the sound of an incoming car, he took to the window. It was Kimberly, who  
was pulling in in, never a car but, an office chair that rolled across the ground, Kimberly had an  
office chair that she believed was a car, and so for her, it was a car. She would put her paws out  
and mimic turning a steering wheel, then it would just work like a car. Michael would mostly  
hear it as an office chair, but sometimes he would hear it as a car. This time he heard it as a car.  
Supposedly it ran on nothing, but Michael thought it ran on Kimberly's menstrual blood.  
Although, Michael seemed to be the only confused or otherwise witness to this phenomenon.

To get excited which he was, he would go over to Kimberly's house, now that she was home. In  
having these thoughts he connected: was a kin to a dog.

At the front door he insisted to mister Keller, "hey Mr. Keller, may I please come in and speak to  
Kimberly, please?"

Mr. Keller grudgingly glared at Michael, he remained so for a few more second, then moved a  
side, and hostilely allowed, "sure, come in." He died all the way to the stairs and hollered up the  
stair, " Kim, someone to see you." Then Mr. Keller went to retire on a floral-patterned sofa  
opposite to Mrs. Keller. Kellers, thought Michael, Kellers are better than me. And in a sense,  
they were, the, The Kellers were an upper middleclass family of main-coons who worked for  
their house, and went to church on Sundays, yes very typical Christian family, they were honest.  
Michael knew and acknowledged that this fact rendered him worse, but he was glad at the fact.  
Nobody's life could be as boring as Mr. Keller's, except for maybe Mrs. Keller's. Kimberly  
though would come to have an interesting life, already, she was unlike her parents, she would try  
to through parties and try to have fun, with moderate success. As the object of affection of a  
young man such as Michael Brower, who knows how short her life could be? Only time.

Michael had never noted that the Television was on until, there had been reported a murder, of a  
poodle in his forties, the police elaborated that there were marks of claws and pain in his body,  
they also found traces of evil intent, and a red haired female human, his blood by now had been  
brown, here are not whiskers and fur nor ticks on the cot. Only the emotion explains happiness.  
So the colprate may have been a sadist. No leads, only the inspection has found claw marks on  
the tree outside his window William may have been killed by a cat or a koala, but they're not  
good at climbing, so maybe another dog, or a team of vengeful mice? This, folks serves as a  
reminder, that when you kill the prey, always pray for the soul to go to heaven. And nobody   
could expect them to become your willing prey. That brings up the topic of killing for food  
again, and again on the side of pro stop killing animals for food, we have 103% of the mouse  
population, and pro killing we have so many cats, that brings me to the news of the conclusion of  
the protest in downtown Montreal, everyone either died or ate well. And for the top hunting  
grounds this week, we have: number one, Downtown Montreal,…

"Jesus." Michael gasped, "Oh no, Oh God."

"did you say something?" Mrs. Keller spat, for she had an extreme distaste for his language.

"Tell Kim, I'm dead meat, I meant tell kid I'm leaving for Montreal, I'll see you round." And He  
left as a Columbian River you may know.

He did not really know what was going on, he had nobody to blame, not even himself, well,  
maybe he overreacted, maybe this was another murder unrelated to his video game, to see the  
crime scene, he walked or stalked or limped, and there to get a better view of that crime, he  
crossed the police lines, and very well, it was the murder he had committed in the video game,  
and seeing this made him remember that along with killing the poodle, he had cut off his foot,  
and where would he have put it, he did not know, after all he did not go to his own house in the  
video game.

"Hey kid-"

Michael's head tingled as he saw the detective from earlier approached him.

"-you following me?"

"listen, I listen, I can explain." Michael rasped.

" You don't have anything to explain, or do you? This is the second time I've seen you within  
police lines. Now I won't tell you again, go home."

And Michael limped home.

When he got there, he had an approximation of where William's foot could be. In the  
refrigerator, He opened the fridge, and what did his spying yellow eyes react. A poodle foot and  
he wanted to eat it, because it was the only food in the house that did not have an STD, this dog's  
foot was only making local calls. Michael, understandably, distressed flipped decisions between  
telling the police, and covering his tracks or finding the makers of the game, or killing himself.

A voice came to help him.

"Cover your tracks."

"Fucker. Who are you?"

"Michael, you know who. Its me."

" Who are you?"

" I was a witness, and if I were you, I would bury the foot."

The process began, he would bury the foot, then everyone would think a mad dog committed the  
murder.  
______________________________________________________________________________


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

In the summer of fifth grade, he became restless at night

Can it be here?

_____________________________________________________________________

All the way through the woods, woods had trails and down a trail was, the burial ground, some say it is haunted, but that is not true. Michael thought realities came to surface in time, things could be learned. His leg, never stopped hurting, and never will. Despite his certainty that digging with his forepaws would by a more convincing dog than with a shovel, his paws were perfect until now, so he dug with the shovel. When he picked up the shovel, the handle reminded him not of anything recent, how long had it been since he dug? Years, perhaps he did not often leave the house, his intent was at the screen, and at the telephone. He had unclear goals for the future. All he knew was that he wanted to work with electronics. Absent mindedly digging, a human male had planned to steel the foot from Michael in way of sneaking into the duffle, which was about ten feet behind him, next to a leafy tree, not an evergreen. The Human successfully took the foot and he was proud of himself, he was happy until the cat turned around, and hissed and pounced for him, luckily the leg of this cat had been broken, so the human had time to run away, which he did. Ran not as fast as he could, because like most humans he enjoyed to chase be chased and tease others. The cat limped behind, they ran and limped over fifty hills then he, the human, looked back at this cat, the cat muttered the words

"give me the foot, please, give me the foot, if you give me it now, I'll never ask you for anything ever again."

That was pitiful.

The human handed over the foot, and decided to bring another smarter animal to remines about this event with the cat.

A boarder collie was passing by so the human screamed at it, and it followed, all the way to Michael, it followed.

Michael saw a giant ant in the distance.

"Shit."

And he ducked for cover in a bush.

Fitzgerald was very confused at the scene the human was attempting to convey by leading him here. Yet he followed him, because sometimes humans know things, and sometimes they're just humans.

The human walked up to Michael.

Deflecting flies what was occupying Michael right now.

As the border collie got closer, he realized that it was not a giant ant.

Michael staid low.

The human walked right up to him, but the bushes and this border collie's poor eye-sight helped him into not being noticed.

The event passed with many a nerve, and a confused border collie, who would come to walk along, and fall in a ditch, they would be discovered 23 years later for a film score. So black cats can actually be delayed good luck.

Michael, again went home.

He burned and took the foot home. He also burned the clothes from the day that he committed the murder. With dismay he was forced to burn the leather collar.

"Dammit."

Then the door bell rang.

Michael limped over to the home's front door, it was a door with another door, and although this may be standard in some parts of the united states, where they lived, not everyone has a screen door in front of the other door. Looking through he, the glass, Michael saw Kyle

"Yo, Michael, Soil Sack, I have been singing for you, all day.-"

Michael thought about that, and what he was doing here, if he had been singing all day, then wouldn't Michael have seen Kyle upon going into the house after digging?

"-You skipped school today?"

"Oh. Uhh, I contracted mono."

"that’s harsh, anything I can do?"

"No, I better get back to sleep."

" Hey did you hear about the murder?"

"yeah, I heard."

"Yeah, that's pretty cool, having a murder in our own neighborhood and all."

Michael, For the first time in a while, took note how disgusting it was that he and Kyle liked to see people slaughtered, He knew that if he had not committed the murder he would have been joyously pouring over with Kyle every detail of the murder reported in the news, and without conscious acknowledgement starting myths about it to school they would be disclosed.

"Kyle, a guy just died, and you think that’s cool?"

"well not cool, but interesting."

"forget it, hej hej."

"hey, hey, if you're caught up, can you lend Brainscan?"

"No Kyle, I cannot."

"if you're gonna be a jerk about it, tell me out right."

Michael, too in the intellectual state of mind to care right now, repulsively stated,

"Kyle, sing on."

And made Kyle forced to evade the portal, and made the portal exit existence.

Kyle only hissed and stalked off.

Michael slowly dripped up flights as the Columbia's salmon do.

When entering his room, he persuaded to the reader a technologically advanced audio holder that can be in place of records, that is called a "compact disk".

Then curled up in his sleeping basket, as his stomach shown his slow breathing.

 

_Suil, suil, suil a ruin_

_Suil go sochair agus suil go ciúin_

_Suil go doras agus éalaigh liom_

_Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán_

_I wish I were on yonder hill_

_Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill_

_And every tear would turn a mill_

_Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán . . ._

 

Now would be a good time to talk about Michael's décor in his room, the walls were almost completely covered in posters and propaganda, photographs of his friend Kyle and his dead mother while she was alive could be found.

Disturbed by a doorbell's ring, the song was over heard.

Michael trickled down those all-too-familiar levels and took time to look out the windows of the far angle of the house, taking not at the partially fogged day. From a distance he took a gander through the indirect glass--

Kimberly stood there.

"Oh, Shit." Michael offered.

Straightened out his night clothes, Michael did.

He fronted not to himself disappointed that Kimberly came over, because he did not want to seem unprepared in front of her.

He opened the front-door.

"Hi Michael.", Kimberly greeted sweetly.

"hey." Michael responded non hostilely, as he was exited to witness Kimberly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you sleeping?"

With no current (real) time to be embarrassed he swallowed, and responded

" Well, actually, maybe I may have dozed off."

" Can I come in?" Kimberly requested.

"Oh!" It was a sudden presence in his brain that he had not opened the door for the good neighbor. "Yeah, sorry, come on in."

"thanks"

More shock came as he looked to the street to find the fuzz rolling by in a blue vehicle.

"Yeah, there all over the neighborhood"

Kimberly had in the day felt empathetic for Michael, and being the caring, sweet molly she was, had taken it upon herself to gather the week's assignments for Michael, going to all his teachers to do so, Mr. Cecil seemed worried by this, but what for?

"I went around to all your teachers for you, and got yer homework for the week."

Michael prolonglie stammered "Oh", then to show his gratitude "thanks."

"My parents said you stopped by?"

"Only to find out about some homework."

Kimberly gave a doubtful smile and optimistic reply,

"We don’t have any classes together, Michael."

"Oh, we don’t, do we."

"And I brought your mail."

"thanks."

"and here is the Monty, they have a lot of pictures in it this week."

"that's, .. really nice, tusind tak."

Was this why Michael fell for Kimberly?

Looking through the mail, he paused and dropped all of it.

"shit."

Kimberly bent over, to pick up the mail, yet upon Michael's insistence, she, again stood in a unattending fashion.as went this event , Kimberly became curious and concerned to anything that could cause Michael to forget the mail .

"That’s alright, I got it." portrayed Michael.

"Is everything alright."

Michael did not look into her eyes,

"I think you should get going."

"Oh, alright, I'll see myself out."

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	4. Chapter 4

______________________________________________________________________________Chapter

4

Somewhere out there, Michael saw death as entertainment.

And as I see the blood pool from his body on the square television, I am not distressed as I used to be but enthralled at the display of violence.

______________________________________________________________________________

Michael dramatically slipped against the wall in purpose "woe is me!"

He tore the surrounding material of a second disk of Brainscan. Tossing it to rub intensely with the stairs once, and then rebound, the disk then was unusable by accounts of Michael Brower. He sprang to conquer flights if he could only, with the effected leg. 

Never before had Michael really been so in touch with the current. As it stands, he was rich and nothing had really come to him as exiting, maybe that is why he liked horror. 

Yet this is not true, he had theses current experiences when his mother died in  a car crash. He had not felt so alive except for when his Mother died. And suddenly he knew just how he liked horror films, were they really a form of escape for he, no He loved the idea of death, because that was when he  felt most alive.

At this realization, he wondered more and more about his infatuation with death, and what about when he had murdered  a commune citizen and laughed while doing so. 

"Well I always Knew I was a sadist." Michael exclaimed into the bold air.

His whiskers twitched and his tail spun, yet his head was on his shoulders. No it wasn't, after all cats nor snakes have shoulders.  Of course, this is what makes them creepers more often even than foxes, corvids, and hares.

With his new wealth, Michael looked at the stained glass window as salt water came out of his eyes as droplets. The wall began to melt and his claws came to focus that blood was dripping from them the perfect sea of strange liquids all caused Michael to limp back down the stairs and look at the view from just below the landing, through a window at the far side for the rest of the  day. And when The sun rose his eyes opened, although he could not see through the thick black mucus-like substance that covered them at first. The dried and altered tears left when he willed.

 To the first landing these stairs were painted blandly white without a carpet, but past the first landing to the next flight a carpet of ornate nature colored the bland decore, as the rest of the house has white walls, and rather uninteresting a display of blending expensive furniture. This carpet, as one may have guessed, Michael was a victim of slipping on them, this is what reminded him of the carpet as he now did slip on them, although, not enough to lose balance after all he was a cat, his tail outstretched to support him, strangely though, instead of like so many times before, that he thought of how unlucky he was to have a broken leg, undoubtably the cause of his instances of clumsiness, he was grateful for his tail  not to be broken. Yet why was that? When ever Michael had fallen down these stairs in times eager to be on the ground floor’s foyer, most in his younger years he had rounded the corner, flew of the landing sure to contact the wall, before sudden stagnance, and a gentle floating to the ground. This is what for Michael had dubbed this carpet “The Flying Carpet”. 

Unsound thoughts came with the morning at 3:00(24 hour clock). Why was he, Michael, having sudden regret (unsurprising) at the lack of true planning that murder stocked. One voice waded through his wettland brain, scanning it. “let the witness be brought to Valhalla.” or one from the other side imposing on the usual, if not natural routine recreation of these cells

“Kill him!”

Michael realized something strangely he never recalled learning: “He will only leave for Valhalla if he dies in battle.” 

“Make it so Michael...”

Michael angerly hissed at these voices in his head. How dear they, there wasn't even a witness to speak of.

“Oh and yet there is a witness of murder Michael-”

And an image pulled from the  filing cabinets of his mind was pulled. A cat of his to know.

“play the second disk, Michael.”

“Just Shut up!”

Slowly hobbling up the stair Michael mumbled solemly the word :

“I caint even play Brainscan,who ever.. Hiss..When will that be done?” he strain the last sentence with a hint of whispered explanation. Michael was actually referring to his father’s business trip, upon which he deemed to proceed further in work, and postpone return. “You sure can’t play _Brainscan_ , Michael.” Came the scanning tricky voices relevant criticism. 

Brought back to himself, Michael realized this situation was very, very odd, funny thing, funny thing. Magique!

“Who are you?” Michael quaverred in disarray with emotion of the current. His whiskers back, claws further, Columbia rapidly flicking hitting the wall. He had since reached his room, and now spoke into spaces of dust unseen.

 And when Michael closed his eyes, he could see a lion, with a bright neon red main, a dark red suit, a black leather waistcoat, and a fancy collar, with a ruby on it. Michael immediately knew, and he thought, Oh lord, he’s from Kittitas County, From the county of boredom, he could tell by the way a long lions tail had been bent from tossing.

“-I can't play it.”

“You have to play it.”

“No!”

“ What will you say to them then?”   
Michael swayed nervously from his hips, taking to the wall for support, then running to his gaming chair. Wildly eyes spying no longer, he had allegedly been out-voyeured. The Trickster, for as Michael approached him he could not find him, only a pixely mist, began again to assault him with speech.

“Why did you leave school the day of the murder, Mr. Brower? Where were you the night of the murder? Were you alone, Mr. Brower? Where's your father, Mr. Brower? Where's your mother, Mr. Brower?”

“ BE SSSSssssssilent.”

“ Oh, They won’t have answers as satisfactory.”

“ Theeeey haven’t had any leadssss, or sSSSSSSSSuSSspectss.”

“ Well you can only stop the witness from speaking in on manor.” The sound in Michael’s ears fluctuated in and out. Tones played. Michael wandered if anyone was really engaged in this sound transcriptions with him. He, being deranged and irritated, couldn't care for all of Montreal.

“I don’t even have the second disk.” Michael announced.

“Don’t lie.” 

“ I shuffled it, it can’t compute.”

You did nothing of the sort. Not spoken, this sentence hinted, it suddenly true came the disk inside the loop od a noose that hung from Michael’s celling, the hole was wide enough for a small cat’s neck like Michael’s.  He pondered, “ that makes since, I guess, if living things leave this world through a noose, then inanimate things  can join the world through it.” Michael’s night train stormed on, “ does that mean this disk is alive now.” he was even more angry, they had learned this in the sixth grade. For the recorded noose are portals for broken  inanimate things, but they will not become living.

He knocked it through  the gap with his river tail, his tail flowed through both holes. With his sharp claws he caressed the interior of the noose opening, he heard the dry rope’s rubbing noise at his sensitive ears.

“ Michael, Experience the adventure.”

“ Experience with the blue Fuzz!”

“ The real question is: are you a winner, or a loser?”

“ I participated.”   
intently a moment of peace came: voyeur back, Michael turned on his technicolor recorder, and sat in his film seeing chair,

“ Goddag, jeg hedder Michael Brower, I’m sixxxteen and I’m scared to death.”

Swallowing hard Michael commanded the television, his Adam's apple shook, flem slid down his throat.

“ I can’t know what this tapes going to show, but if I’m a killer, consider this my confession.”

The title of the game shown, “ _BRAINSCAN_ ”.

_____________________________________________________________________________


End file.
